


A Request

by TheIneffableLily



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 00:43:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21217748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIneffableLily/pseuds/TheIneffableLily
Summary: Crowley asks something of Aziraphale.If you're looking for plot, look elsewhere.





	A Request

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of a kink meme fill (I misread the request, but here it is). If you have any other ideas or prompts, let me know :)

There is something rather vulgar about this position. Vulnerable, too. Crowley didn't think of that when he was stumbling through his, shall we say, _suggestion_. He stammered out more words than he needed, then made a show of reassuring Aziraphale's neutral expression that it was up to him and it wasn't a big deal and, really, that had been a dumb idea anyway-

Aziraphale had said, “That seems simple enough,” as if Crowley's request was nothing but a simple task he wanted to accomplish in the best and most efficient way possible.

And now, after a lot more stammering and blushing and trying very hard not to look like an idiot, Crowley has gotten to his knees, face pressed against the mattress, feeling partially humiliated but incredibly thrilled.

“You do look quite gorgeous, my dear,” Aziraphale says, standing right behind him and, Christ! Crowley can feel his eyes on him.

“Shut up,” he mumbles against the duvet, angry that Aziraphale always has to take his time. It is all a novelty to him – granted, it is a all a novelty for Cowley, too – so he savors every new sex act that they try the same way he would a meal: slowly, lazily, trying to extract as much pleasure as possible from every new experience.

A gentle hand slides down his backside and Crowley shivers. Then, he feels soft lips being pressed against his skin. Aziraphale has touched him there many times and maybe some day Crowley will get used to the gentleness, but he hasn't yet.

Through gritted teeth, Crowley tells him to just get on with it and suddenly, with no warning, Aziraphale's tongue lashes out and leaves a long stroke between his cheeks. It isn't done quickly. He drags it from the back of his balls to the tip of his tailbone, tongue pressed flat against his skin. The motion takes both too long and not long enough, and Crowley is left breathless yet utterly unsatisfied.

“Was that good?”

Crowley nods frantically.

“I need to hear your words, my dear.”

“Yes, God, fuck you, yes!” he says, eyes screwed shut and his knees spreading further apart just a little more.

He hears Aziraphale let out a little “Oh!” and Crowley can practically see him smiling, proud of himself for a job well done.

“Should I do it more slowly, or...?” he tries to ask.

Crowley keens and whines and rocks himself back and forth with impatience. “I don't care, just do it again.”

Aziraphale's breath hits his skin first, warm and comforting. Then, his tongue touches him again; just the tip this time, curious and wondering, trying to explore Crowley's body and figure out what works on him. He traces a circle around his hole, his touch as soft as a feather, then flattens his tongue against him more roughly, rubbing that spot over and over.

Crowley's hands clutch the duvet and he buries his face on the mattress while Aziraphale continues to experiment with his body. He muffles the most pathetic sighs against the covers, but he can't stop himself from moaning and shaking and pushing back against his tongue.

After a moment, Aziraphale resurfaces for air and asks, “Is that good? It that what you wanted?”

Crowley practically groans in frustration, one of his arms flailing, trying to pull the angel's face back against his body, but only managing to look like a desperate, pathetic mess in the process, he is sure of it.

Still, Aziraphale presses one hand to his back and gently holds his wrists with the other, saying, “Shh, it's okay, just take a deep breath.”

“Shit, fuck, you fucking bastard,” he snarls back.

“Now, there's no need for this kind of language. Aren't you enjoying yourself?”

Crowley settles down into an angry silence, glad that Aziraphale can't see his red face.

“Well?” he pressures, very gentle.

Crowley gives him the most imperceptible nod and hopes that will be enough.

“I need to hear your words, my dear.”

“Bastard.”

There's a little chuckle behind him. Despite himself, Crowley feels his own lips turning into a smile.

Aziraphale rubs his back and strokes his wrist. “Try again, my dear. Was that what you wanted?”

“Yes,” he sighs, defeated and at peace all at once. “Yes, please, just like that.”

“There. Was that so hard?”

Crowley whines again and throws his hips back. Aziraphale plants a little kiss on the curve of his ass, then allows his tongue to trace its way back to Crowley's hole. His ministration is more careful now, with patient strokes that seem to be searching for sweet spots while paying close attention to the sounds Crowley is trying very hard not to make – an endeavor he is failing miserably at.

As Aziraphale tries to pry to hole open with the tip of his tongue, Crowley starts stroking himself, but the angel takes his hand away and hold it down. Crowley pants and sobs and begs until Aziraphale stops and shushes him one more time.

“Let me take care of you,” he says. “You don't have to do anything.”

“Okay.”

“Just...” He reaches out to stroke his hair, then makes him turn his face to the side, right cheek resting on the mattress. “Just let me hear you.”

“Yes, fine.”

“Don't hold back.”

With that, Aziraphale wraps a firm hand around his cock and gives it a stroke as he continues to tease his hole with his tongue, pushing the tip into him as deep as the tight flesh will allow him. Crowley claws at the sheets and allows his mouth to hang open as he momentarily forgets how to breathe properly. He gasps and pants and it's all too much because Aziraphale is picking up his pace now and his head is spinning. He is falling out of control and-

“Fuck!” he cries out, arching his back further and letting Aziraphale bury his face between his cheeks. “Fuck- don't stop, don't you fucking dare!”

Aziraphale giggles. He fucking giggles while eating his hole out and Crowley knows he's making the most embarrassing noises and letting the angel know just how much he's affecting him and he's never going to be able to look Aziraphale in the eyes again but fuck all of that because this feel – _so_ – _fucking_ – _good_.

When the orgasm finally reaches him, he thinks he might discorporate from that alone. It cuts through his body with such power that he can do nothing but babble incoherently as Aziraphale repeatedly pumps his cock as he rides a violent wave of pleasure until finally – finally! - he is allowed to collapse in a mess of sweat and pliable limbs. His breathing won't go back to normal any time soon and he is fairly certain his brain has stopped working permanently.

Aziraphale takes advantage of his tamed state and pushes him on his side, then pulls him into his arms, lips brushing against the back of his neck.

“Good?” he asks, a tease in his voice.

Crowley wants to answer with something sharp, but he only manages a ridiculous, subdued sound that makes Aziraphale smile.

“_That_ good?”

“Shut up,” he manages to say, but he's smiling, too. Then, he sighs. “Good. Really good.”

Aziraphale kisses the top of his head. “Good, because we're doing that again as soon as you catch your breath.”

Crowley shivers and leans closer to the angel, who traces patterns on his skin with the tip of a finger.

“I wonder if I can make you orgasm from that alone...”

TheIneffableLily


End file.
